Victims and Heroes: Myles
by LadyMinstrelsBallad
Summary: Myles and Demetrius have to track down a new drug cook on the streets of DC.


Myles Leland leaned back in his chair and surveyed his fellow FBI agents. The FBI-issued pistol holstered below his arm dug at his ribs as he turned. He ignored it and continued to watch.

Jack, the shortest agent here, was listening attentively to Tara, the techie, who was gesturing and pointing at her computer screen. A few nods were shared. Sue, the deaf agent, in the corner, was trying to concentrate on a case file. Myles smiled wryly; he saw her eye trail to where Jack stood every now and then. Demetrius, the oldest and head agent, was being called over by Jack and pieces of information were exchanged. Bobby, the giant Australian, tapped Sue on the shoulder and signed a short sentence to her. Lucy hung up the phone and yelled to Demetrius, "It's time!"

Demetrius waved at Bobby and Jack, both of whom hurriedly snatched up their coats and followed him out the open door. Myles lifted himself out of his relaxed position and crossed to Tara's desk. A surveillance tape was paused on the computer; a list of witnesses for a different case was minimized.

"We've got him this time," Tara mumbled.

"Undoubtedly," Myles replied flatly, though she hadn't been talking to him specifically.

Tara donned her headset.

"Jack, he'll be on the corner of ––––– and –––––. If he moves, he'll be heading south. He's scheduled to meet another customer in twenty minutes there, according to George Brian's computer."

"Gotcha, Tara."

Five minutes went by.

"We're in place," whispered Jack. "He's not here."

"Wait another two minutes. He'll be there."

An hour later, the three agents returned in glorious victory. They each swept a bow and flashed a smile before returning to their seats. This particular case had been open for the past three months, and they were glad to be rid of it.

This cheer was short-lived, however. The team soon became aware of Ted Garrett's presence in their midst. He was holding a thick folder in his right hand, which he tossed on Demetrius' neatly organized desk.

"A double homicide," boomed the dark-skinned man, his deep voice rumbling in his throat, "is now on our hands. A witness gave us a description of the murderer of the first. We ran it against our files and found one Thomas Bruneli to match the sketch. Demetrius, you're head of this case now." Garrett turned to the rest of the inhabitants of the room. "Now, we once had reason to believe Bruneli was dead. He was gunned down by a sniper, but his body we never found."

"So you're implying that you might have been wrong," Tara intoned.

"There was always the chance that we were. And there's also the chance that the witness was lying or mistaken. So I'm counting on you guys to solve this."

As Garrett left the room, Demetrius flipped open the case file with a grimace. He studied the photograph paper-clipped to the front of the stack of papers before skimming through the rest. He gained the gist of the case.

Demetrius stood up and pinned the pictures of two young women to the board at the front of the office.

"Jenny Renolds and Ashley Fields are the two victims," he said, attracting the attention of his team. "Renolds was killed by Bruneli in a hit and run six months ago. Fields was shot last month at the bar on –––– street. According to the autopsies, both were using an unidentified drug."

"We don't know who shot the second woman?" Sue asked.

"Ballistics is working on matching the pistol found at the scene of Ashley's murder," Demetrius said, turning towards his deaf colleague so she could read his lips fully.

The next morning found Myles and Bobby interrogating Ashley Fields' parents. No red flags, and certainly no information they didn't already know, there. The close of the day came quickly for the FBI team.

Myles, rearranging the files before him, heard Lucy pick up the office telephone.

"Yes, this is Lucy Dotson. Yes, I think I know who you are." She flashed her gorgeous, white-toothed smile. "And, once again, yes, I am still counting on having lunch with you today." She laughed, said her farewell, and set the phone lightly on the receiver.

Myles looked over his papers at her in what he hoped was a deigning glance.

"Lunch?" he questioned. "With an object of affection, I presume?"

"Myles, I'm not even going to speak with you. You'll ruin the magic," Lucy stated bluntly, turning her head away so as to ignore him.

"I wasn't aware your dining plans were with Mickey Mouse," retorted Myles. "What a strange day this has become!"

"If you must know, his name is Alex. Now leave me alone." She gathered her coat and purse and left Myles in a state of mock shock. The feigned emotion quickly dissipated into a sharp scowl, which he let bloom behind the shelter of his papers.

After the lunch hour had come to an end and all the agents (including a very giddy Lucy) had returned, Demetrius pinned up a photo of an aging man.

"This man is fifty-six year old Donald Redding. The gun found at Ashley Field's crime scene is registered under his name."

"Does this man have any connections to Bruneli or the other victim?" Jack asked, his arms folded over his chest.

"Redding and Bruneli are heads of two rivaling gangs on the streets of D.C."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I've heard of Donald Redding," Bobby said, snapping his fingers. "His mates like to call him Donny Red."

"So that's the only connection?" Jack asked again.

"Well, they're both known druggies," Bobby suggested. "Maybe they supplied the drugs to the girls?"

"That's a logical assumption," Myles granted.

"Maybe we should pay a visit to our Donny Red," Demetrius suggested. "Alright, Myles and Bobby, you go check out his place, see if you get anything useful. Jack, you're coming with me to Bruneli's apartment."

As Myles grabbed his coat, he overheard Sue and Lucy speaking behind him. He slowed his movements. Sue asked Lucy about her date; Lucy assured her that it was fantastic. She went on to describe Alex, the restaurant, the conversation… Myles left the room, disgusted. He'd never taken Lucy anywhere fancy when they were dating.

"Is Donald in trouble?" His wife flew into frantic hysterics.

Myles rolled his eyes at Bobby, but kept his annoyance hidden from Mrs. Redding.

"When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs. Redding?" Bobby asked, ignoring his friend's gesture.

"Maybe two or three days ago." She sniffed. "It's nothing new, though. He's gone often on business trips."

Myles snorted. _I'm guessing she doesn't know that her husband is a mob boss._

"When he _is_ home, do you notice anything… unusual about him?" Bobby continued. "Behavior, appearance, smell?"

"Are you suggesting that Donald drinks? Or that he beats me?"

"Simply asking, Mrs. Redding."

"Then no, he's as normal as he ever was."

"Does he ever speak about a man named Thomas Bruneli?" Myles questioned.

"No, never heard of him. I'm going to ask you men to leave now," Mrs. Redding said, seemingly gathering as much nerve as she could.

They were ushered from the Redding house with suspicious haste.

"Anything from Redding's wife?" Demetrius asked Myles and Bobby, back in the FBI building.

"She's a horrible actor," Myles muttered.

"She seemed the innocent wife at first," Bobby added, "but she quickly turned into the woman who's covering for a guilty man. How was Bruneli's apartment?"

"We're asking for a warrant. From what we saw through the window, we have reason to believe he had a lab in his bedroom at one time."

"But it isn't there anymore?"

"I think he knows someone ratted him out. He won't be back anytime soon."

"So we've got to find out where he's going," Jack offered.

Demetrius nodded. "Check out his relatives, his recent contacts, anything."

Hours droned by and the team found nothing. Evening began its descent on the city, and Myles, along with the rest of his colleagues, began to slowly disappear from the building. He picked up his keys and checked around his desk for anything else he needed before waving goodbye to the remaining Tara and Demetrius. He jogged down the stairs to the parking garage and happily searched for his beloved car.

Bobby's car was parked in the small one-car garage already (a contest which the roommates held as tradition), so Myles was obliged to park by the curb. Pulling open the door and bracing himself for the familiar, masculine stench the apartment had of cologne and dirty socks, he held his hand up in greeting to his roommate. Bobby sat on a stool in the cramped kitchen, greedily munching on a crunchy piece of toast. Myles disposed of his coat and tossed his keys on the counter before speaking.

"Rough day today?" he asked monotonously, noting the especially determined way Bobby chewed his snack.

"Same as yours, probably," Bobby grumbled in reply.

Myles let the remark lie without any retort. His friend was probably thinking about Darcy or something otherwise romantically frustrating. However, Bobby seemed to think the lack of his friend's sarcasm alarming. He stuffed the last bite of the toast in his mouth and turned on his stool, catching Myles with his hand on his bedroom doorknob.

"Something wrong, mate?"

Myles furrowed his brow in the familiar way and turned to look at Bobby.

"Have you ever noticed that the thing you most regret is always the thing that taunts you in the face when it's gone?"

"Oh, absolutely." The glint in Bobby's eye caused Myles to think that it had something to do with today.

"Well…" Myles motioned with his hands to indicate that that was how he felt.

Bobby nodded in understanding. "So is this a something or a some_one?_" His only answer was a door slam. "I'll take that as a someone."

The following days were much the same. There were a few meetings with people who might produce some information, but none of them meant anything. Ideas were brought forth, shot down, and reinvented. Two weeks passed with nothing to go on, until two more bodies were found. Both were girls, once again, and both had the unidentified drug in their systems. By now the drug had been tested and, as expected, it didn't match any seen before. It was only logical to assume that there was a cook loose in Washington D.C. that was producing a new, highly lethal powder.

The door clipped Myles in the shoulder as he jogged after Demetrius to catch up with the team. They were heading to Benito's Italian Restaurant, the one he himself had picked for lunch. Lucy waved and parted with them a few streets down since she was meeting Alex elsewhere (at which Myles exploded inwardly) and the team walked one last street before arriving at the restaurant.

The team waited patiently at the front door to be seated, and, when shown to a table, quickly took up their menus. Thanks to the number of times he'd eaten here, Myles knew exactly what to order, so his menu remained untouched. He noticed that Demetrius did the same. When the waitress came, everyone was ready to order, and when she left, they were left to think of something to start a conversation.


End file.
